


Get Up, Keep Going

by mithrel



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Blanket Permission, Gen, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-03
Updated: 2009-08-03
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:16:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Gaius told him he’d had news from Ealdor, Merlin didn’t think anything of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Up, Keep Going

But Gaius had sat him down, with an expression of concern on his face, and said gently, “Your mother’s very ill, Merlin.”

He went suddenly cold. “How ill?”

Gaius sighed. “According to Granger, they don’t think they can cure it.”

Merlin stared at him, the bottom dropping out of his stomach, then he said, “I can cure her.”

“Merlin–”

“I can! I’m going to see her!”

Gaius sighed. “I expected you would anyway. But you’ll need permission from Arthur.”

Arthur. Surely he’d let him go. After all, he’d let him when Ealdor had been under attack…

He nodded, and headed to Arthur’s chambers.

***

Arthur looked surprised to see him. “I thought I dismissed you for the day.”

“I need to leave.”

Arthur frowned. “What?”

“My mother, she…she’s very sick.”

Arthur nodded in understanding. “So you want to go home.”

Merlin nodded.

“You can, of course. Stay as long as you need.”

“Thank you, sire!” Merlin gasped, and ran back to Gaius’ to pack.

***

He reached Ealdor two days later. Granger met him. “Thought I’d be seeing you here, afore long.”

“How is she?” Merlin demanded.

He shook his head sadly. “Not long for this world, I’m afraid.”

When Merlin entered the house, he saw that Granger was right.

The room smelt of pain and illness, and the spectre of death hovered over everything. Hunith lay on her bed, one of the girls from the village mopping her brow. When she saw Merlin she got up from her stool and slipped quietly out of the room.

“Mother,” Merlin said, stepping close.

Hunith peered at him through glazed eyes. “Merlin?”

“It’s me, mother,” he said, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Hunith smiled at him. “I’m glad–” she went into a fit of coughing. “I’m glad you came…to say goodbye.”

“You’re not going anywhere, mother. I can heal you.”

Hunith’s head flopped from side to side on the pillow. “You can’t. No one can. I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying!” Merlin shouted. He couldn’t have saved his mother from Nimueh’s curse, only to have her die now!

“I am. It’s alright. You can take care of yourself now, and you still have Gaius. I’m proud of you, Merlin.”

“No,” Merlin whispered brokenly, sinking to his knees beside the bed.

Her hand came up to stroke his hair. “I love you.”

Her hand fell to the bed again, and when Merlin looked up, her eyes were vacant.

“ _No!_ ” He buried his head in her chest, and wept until his throat was raw.

***

Merlin stood at her funeral pyre the next day, just as he had stood at Will’s six months ago, and watched as the person he’d loved more than anything, the one person who’d supported him all his life, was consumed to ashes.

When the fire had finally burnt down, he went back to his mother’s house.

He screamed in rage at the unfairness of the world, railed at the gods that they’d let such a thing happen, as around him everything in the room dashed itself to pieces.

He sank to the floor amid the wreckage, wanting to die.

***

He left a day later, headed for Camelot. Will was gone. His mother was gone. There was nothing left for him in Ealdor.

He had gained nothing by destroying his mother’s possessions, and he’d had the sense to restore everything to its previous state before anyone saw and asked questions.

He didn’t hurry on the journey back, and rode with no thought to bandits or other hazards. At night he made a fire and lay next to it, watching the stars slowly move across the sky, his mind, soul and heart completely numb.

He rode through the city gates a week after he had left, stabled his horse, and headed for Gaius’ chambers.

Gaius met him, took one look at his expression, and asked, “Hunith?”

Merlin shook his head.

Gaius reached out for him, but Merlin flinched away. “Just…just let me alone,” he said, startled by the sound of his own voice after so long in silence.

Gaius nodded, and smiled sadly, and Merlin went into his room. He threw himself onto his bed, and cried himself to sleep.

***

Merlin was woken the following morning by the sound of Arthur’s voice.

“Where’s Merlin? He came back yesterday, people saw him, so why isn’t he here?”

“Merlin,” Gaius replied, somehow managing to be deferential and scathing at the same time, “is indisposed at the moment.”

“What do you mean indisposed?” Arthur sounded worried, Merlin noted. _Probably doesn’t want to dress himself in the morning,_ Merlin thought resentfully.

“He is in no condition to perform his duties. Sire.”

“Hunith?” Definite concern.

Gaius didn’t answer, at least not verbally, but Arthur sighed and continued. “If he needs time, he has it.”

“Thank you, Sire.”

As the door closed, Merlin turned over. He wanted to sleep, to not have to deal with this, for it not to have happened.

***

He woke up to Gaius shaking his shoulder. “Get up. It’s not healthy for you to sleep so much.”

“I don’t care,” Merlin said dully.

“At least eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Gaius sighed. “Merlin–”

“I couldn’t save her, Gaius! My mother’s _dead_ , and it’s my fault!”

Gaius took hold of his shoulders, and locked eyes with him. “Merlin, listen to me! This was _not_ your fault!”

“If I’d got there sooner–”

“Merlin,” Gaius said softly, “Everyone dies. If it’s time for someone to die, nothing can stop it.”

“I couldn’t save her,” he whispered, tears running down his cheeks again.

Gaius held him, and Merlin realised dimly he was crying too.

***

Gwen came to see him three days after he got back.

“What do you want?” Merlin demanded.

A flash of hurt passed over Gwen’s face. “I wanted to see how you’re doing.”

A pang of guilt shot through Merlin. Gwen was just concerned; she hadn’t done anything to deserve him snapping at her. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

He was silent for a moment, then asked, “You want the truth?”

She nodded.

“I feel like…like I’ve lost a limb. Like there’s no joy or goodness left in the world.”

She smiled sadly. “I won’t say I’m sorry. About your mother.” At Merlin’s incredulous look she continued quickly. “Not that I’m not. Sorry I mean. It’s just that whenever anyone said that to me it felt like they were being patronising, and I don’t want to patronise you.”

That was when Merlin remembered. Gwen had lost her father, the man who raised her, just as he had lost his mother, and not long ago. She, more than anyone, would understand what he was going through.

“If you ever need to talk…” she continued.

“Thanks,” he said, and meant it.

“You should go back to work,” she said suddenly.

“What?”

“It…helps. Keeps you busy, gives you something else to focus on.”

“Oh yes, getting ordered about and insulted all day would _certainly_ keep my mind off things!” Merlin retorted sourly.

“Just think about it,” she said, getting up. “I’ve got to get back.” She paused, at the door. “I meant that, about if you need to talk.”

Merlin nodded.

***

He spent the next few days helping Gaius with potions—or attempting to. His natural clumsiness combined with his distraction meant that Gaius finally threw up his hands and said, “I can get on with it, thank you Merlin.”

He thought about going back to work. He hadn’t seen Arthur at all since he got back, and he was a little hurt that he hadn’t come by again.

A week after he’d returned to Camelot, he got up early and dressed.

Gaius was surprised. “You’re up early.”

“I’m going back to work,” he said, sitting down at the table to eat.

Gaius clapped him on the shoulder and handed him a bowl.

***

When he got to Arthur’s chambers he was getting dressed, with the help of a curly-haired servant.

He shouldn’t have been surprised–he’d been gone for more than a week, after all, and Arthur still needed help.

He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was.

He was also totally unprepared for the stab of jealousy he felt at someone else tending to Arthur.

Arthur looked up in surprise. “Merlin!” He turned to the boy. “Leave us.”

The boy bowed, and slipped out.

“Who is–?”

“Blake’s been filling in for you,” Arthur said. “You are coming back.” It wasn’t a question. “Are you here to–?”

“I wanted to come back to work,” Merlin said.

“Are you sure? You can take more time.”

“I’m sure.”

Arthur nodded. “And Merlin? I’m sorry about–”

“Don’t.” Merlin cut him off. “Please, just…don’t.”

Arthur looked penetratingly at him for a moment, and nodded.

***

Merlin just wanted things to go back to normal.

Gwen had been right–having something to do kept his mind off things, and he was tired enough at the end of the day that he was able to sleep.

But Arthur was acting like he was made of glass and might break if he raised his voice. Normally he constantly complained about Merlin’s clumsiness, his inefficiency, his ineptitude.

Arthur wasn’t known for his tact or sensitivity, but not only was he letting Merlin’s mistakes (which were even more numerous than usual) slide without a word, he didn’t order him to do things like muck out the stables, which shouldn’t really be part of his duties at all. He still tended Arthur’s weapons and armour, but spent most of the day in Arthur’s chambers.

And it wasn’t just Arthur. Morgana had stopped him in the corridor and said she was sorry for his loss, that from what she’d seen Hunith had been a good woman, and Merlin had been torn between telling her to shut up and running away.

Gaius tried to help him, but he was preoccupied with his own grief.

He complained about it to Gwen. “It’s like…I don’t know, like I’ve got the pox or something. Arthur’s actually being _nice!_ ”

Gwen laughed. “Don’t be too hard on him. He knows you’re hurting, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Arthur’s not used to feeling helpless.”

He sighed. “I suppose so. I just wish he’d stop treating me like an invalid!”

“It’ll all go back to normal eventually,” Gwen reassured him.

“I hope so,” Merlin muttered.

***

He put up with Arthur’s cosseting for a week before he snapped.

Arthur came in one afternoon to find that he’d let the fire go out. A flash of annoyance crossed his features, then he sighed, and said, “Never mind.”

Merlin had quite suddenly had enough. “Dammit Arthur, stop it!”

A look of incredulous confusion spread across his face. “Excuse me?”

“Since I got back, it’s been all ‘Oh, it’s fine, Merlin.’ ‘Never mind, Merlin.’ I’m _sick_ of it! No demanding ‘You do know who I am, don’t you?’ or complaining about how I’m the worst servant you’ve ever had. You haven’t called me an idiot _once!_ ” he finished, glaring at Arthur.

Arthur looked amused. “You _want_ me to complain?”

“Yes! No. I don’t know. I just…I just don’t want you to treat me differently because…” he trailed off.

Arthur looked thoughtful, then suddenly smirked. “Well in that case, you can muck out my stables. I’m sure they’re a mess by now.”

Merlin smiled for the first time since he’d heard about his mother, bowed ironically and took himself off.

***

It took a while for things to return to complete normalcy with Arthur, but soon they were once again insulting each other, if not cheerfully, at least determinedly.

Merlin found himself grateful for Arthur’s presence: whenever he was brooding, Arthur decided he wanted to train (with Merlin, naturally) or that it was a fine day to go hunting, and grumbling that Arthur had knights to train with and didn’t need to thrash him, or cursing Arthur’s inclination to murder defenceless animals distracted him from his grief.

He didn’t cry until he was in his room at night, or else when he talked to Gwen about his mother. She didn’t judge him, and she cried some herself when she mentioned her father. He counted himself lucky to have her as a friend.

He didn’t lose control in Arthur’s presence until one day when he came into the room to find a vase of irises sitting on the table, no doubt brought by a servant girl. Their fragrance filled the room, and catapulted him back to Ealdor, when he’d pick a bouquet for his mother, or cross the fields where they grew on the way to pick raspberries for his mother to make into jam…

He didn’t even realise he was crying until Arthur approached him, and put a hand on his shoulder. “Merlin?”

He tried to regain control of himself, but every breath brought more of the scent of irises, until, desperately, he reached out a hand, muttered a word, and the flowers burst into flame, the glass vase melting, the surface of the table where it had stood charred and smoking.

Arthur jumped back as if he’d been the one burned, and stared at Merlin, his mouth working soundlessly.

Merlin’s grief evaporated, replaced by horror at what he’d done. He’d kept his magic secret all these years, managed to conceal it from Arthur even when he was using it to save his life, and he revealed it by thoughtlessly setting fire to a bunch of _flowers?!_

“You–”

Merlin didn’t wait to hear what Arthur said; he fled in terror from his chambers, heading for Gaius’ rooms.

***

As he cannoned into the room, Gaius looked up in astonishment. “Merlin, what on Earth…”

He didn’t answer, running to his room, slamming the door, and bolting it behind him.

He spent a moment pacing. He’d wanted to die, or at least he’d thought he did, but now that the certainty of the flames was looming in his future he found that he very much wanted to live.

He’d have to leave. He couldn’t go back to Ealdor; that was the first place Arthur would look for him–Merlin wasn’t counting on Arthur letting him go for the sake of all the times he’d saved his life–but he would find somewhere to go. He began hurriedly putting a pack together.

All too soon he heard Arthur’s voice. “Gaius. Is Merlin here?”

“Yes, sire,” Gaius said, still sounding puzzled, and Merlin cursed himself for not telling Gaius to lie.

“I need to speak to him. Alone.”

Merlin winced.

“Of course, sire,” Gaius replied, and the outer door shut with the finality of the executioner’s axe, leaving him alone with Arthur.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, approaching his room.

He didn’t reply, didn’t even move. No chance Arthur would think he wasn’t here, but…

“Merlin, open the door!” The latch rattled as Arthur tried to enter.

“No.” _As long as I don’t open the door, it won’t have happened, he still won’t know, I won’t be sentenced to death…_

“Dammit Merlin, open the door!”

“No! Why should I? As soon as I do you’ll have me arrested!”

“What?” Arthur exclaimed. “Why would I do that?”

Merlin stared incredulously towards his voice, as if Arthur could see him through the wood. “Because I’m a _sorcerer!_ ”

“Yes, you’re a sorcerer, and we need to _talk_ about that, but I’m not having a conversation with a door, it’s undignified!”

Merlin couldn’t help but smile at that, but he quickly sobered. “You say you want to talk, but as soon as you’re done demanding an explanation you’ll hand me over to your father.”

“I’ll…just what kind of an ungrateful bastard do you think I am?” Arthur demanded.

“What?”

“You’ve saved my life at least twice, why would I have you executed?”

“Eight times,” Merlin said without thinking.

“What?”

“Eight times, if you count the cave and the bandits in Ealdor.”

“That was you?”

“Yes.”

“He covered for you,” Arthur said.

Merlin nodded, though Arthur couldn’t see it. “Will knew I was a sorcerer, and he figured since he was,” he swallowed, “was dying anyway he might as well make sure I was safe.”

“Would you _please_ open the door?” Arthur asked.

“Promise you won’t turn me over to your father?” Merlin demanded.

“For God’s sake, Merlin, I’ve already said I wouldn’t!”

“No you didn’t. Promise me.”

Arthur grumbled something Merlin couldn’t quite catch, but which sounded uncomplimentary. He didn’t care. He needed to be sure.

“Fine! I promise.”

Merlin moved to open the door, and let Arthur in.

Arthur sat at the table below the window, and as Merlin sat on the bed he turned the chair to face him.

“You said you saved my life _eight_ times?” Arthur demanded.

Merlin nodded.

“The knife and the goblet…”

“And the shield, the bandits in Ealdor, and the ones when you rescued Sophia. That branch falling wasn’t an accident. I saved you from the Questing Beast. I also led you out of the cave and kept Aulfric from sacrificing you to the Sidhe.”

“You _what?_ ” Arthur squawked, then coughed, embarrassed.

“You didn’t really try to elope. Sophia and her father were Sidhe exiles condemned to live as humans. The Sidhe demanded a life in return for allowing her back. She enchanted you and was going to kill you.”

“And you stopped her,” Arthur said, frankly disbelieving.

“You’ll believe I knocked you out, but not that I stopped them with magic?”

Arthur looked embarrassed again. “Sorry, it’s just…” He stopped. “I thought Gaius found a cure for the Questing Beast’s venom, that the books were wrong.”

Merlin shook his head. “There’s no cure.”

“So what did you do?”

Merlin sighed. “In order to grant a life by magic, one must be taken. I offered up my life.”

“You–” Arthur gaped at him. “ _Why?!_ ”

Merlin shrugged. “You’re the future king. I’m just a servant. And,” he paused. “And you’re my friend.”

“You were saying goodbye,” Arthur realised. “That day.” He looked puzzled. “But you’re still here. And I was already better when you left.”

Merlin grimaced. “The magic tried to take someone else’s life. I couldn’t accept that, so I destroyed the sorceress who I’d made the bargain with, and that counted as the sacrifice.”

“You _destroyed_ –” The fear was back in Arthur’s eyes.

“Arthur, I don’t kill, not unless it’s to save someone else’s life, and even then it makes me sick!”

Arthur actually smiled. “Well, anyone who’d cry over unicorns…”

“Oh, shut up,” Merlin grumbled.

“How long have you been a sorcerer?” Arthur wanted to know.

“I was born with magic. I can’t help it, this is what I am.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Arthur asked softly. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I wanted to, Arthur, honestly, I even tried, in Ealdor, but…” Merlin sighed. “I’ve kept it a secret for so long. There are only three people who ever knew, and two of them are dead. I…I was happy, being your servant, and we were almost like friends, but if you knew who I really was you’d hate me, and…” He couldn’t continue. He was crying again, and attempted to stop. He’d already made enough of a fool of himself.

Arthur got up from the chair and pulled him to stand. “I could never hate you. You’re Merlin.”

And the fact that Arthur knew, finally, not only knew but _accepted_ , only made him cry harder.

Arthur held him, awkwardly, patting his back and occasionally saying “There, there.”

Merlin remembered the conversation he’d had with Arthur that night in Ealdor.

_“I just didn’t fit in anymore. I wanted to find somewhere that I did.”_

_“Had any luck?”_

_“I’m not sure yet.”_

The only thing that had kept him from being sure was the fact that Arthur didn’t know about his magic. Now he did, and he hadn’t turned away from him.

There might be nothing left for him in Ealdor. But that was alright, because he belonged in Camelot, at Arthur’s side.


End file.
